Jiminy Glick in LaLaWood
by Giggles The Monkey
Summary: Jiminy Glick Martin Short goes to the Toronto Film Festival with his family, and he is met with a mystery. And doughnuts!
1. Chapter 1

_**I do not own Jiminy Glick, because if I did, I would be partying with him instead of writing fanfiction.**_

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There have been many celebrity interviewers in this world, but there is one certain fellow no one will never forget. With glasses that take up his entire face and a doughnut always in hand, Jiminy Glick is a lean, mean, reporting machine. Well, he's not very lean, he's actually quite fat. And he's not mean, he wouldn't hurt a fly. And he's not a machine, either. So basically, he's a reporter. But he's a good one.

Jiminy and I met at a bar on the corner of Philadelphia Avenue and 9th Street. I believe the bar was called "The Rooster's Crow." I ordered a strawberry daiquiri, and he ordered a virgin Cuba Libre. I looked over at that hunk of meat and was instantly blown away. That shape, that form! Those heart-wrenching eyes! I won't give you the gory details, but long story short, we were dating.

After a good 2 months of going steady, Jiminy took me out to a fancy-shmancy restaurant that many people know as Taco Bell. He got down on one knee and said four words that I had been longing to hear: "Will you marry me?"

We married in July in a beautiful horse stable. Our honeymoon was in Paris. Unfortunately, the mood was somewhat dampened when I had to explain to him, ahem, where babies came from. Apparently, he had never heard of the notion. His penis went _where?_

All in all, we had a great time, and we ended up with twins Matthew and Modine. Guess who we named them after? Matthew Modine!

After a few years, old Jim boy wanted to get back to his heart and soul: Interviewing. By the time Matt and Mo were ten, we were on our way to the Toronto Film Festival!

The Toronto Film Festival, isn't that huge? If you're not dancing in your chair right now, I might as well smack you with a dish towel. Such pathetic coverage, this is. Back where I come from... Breathe, Dixie, calm yourself down... Okay, then. Where was I?

Have I even introduced myself? I am Dixie Peach Glick. All the country men call me a real sweet peach, but my skin is tough. Jiminy loves me truly, and I love him too, even though he's not enough for me sometimes. Our family is sometimes odd, but I think we are a perfect American package.

Back to our story, hmm? Well, my husband Jim was selected from a large group of contestants to be sent to the Toronto Film Festival. Okay, maybe it was from a raffle at a bar, but it's still an accomplishment, right? So we all jumped into our minivan and headed off for good old Canada. I don't need to mention that Jiminy held the map upside down and drove us to Mexico by accident before turning around and going the right way. I don't want to bring that up.

We had reservations for a hotel that seemed great online, but the pictures must have been thirty years old. It was falling apart. The bar was nice, though. Fortunately, we were able to catch a decent room. Jiminy and I broke the bed, so they had to bring in a new one, but it's all good!

We met a creepy man at the bar that had a strangely familiar face. I don't think I knew him, but maybe he had been in a movie or something. He had a weird accent, maybe from smoking, the poor man. But what he told us changed our lives forever. *dramatic music plays*


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, I'm sorry. You were probably expecting to hear Dixie's voice again. Well, she's in the bathroom right now. I think she ate a bad taco. Anyway, this is Jiminy. I like doughnuts!

What was that woman talking to you about? The Toronto Film Festival, eh? Well, that was a grand old time. I went around interviewing everyone. It was great!

Then, there was this weird lesbian couple and a strange man that smelled of smoke. SPOILER ALERT! The lesbians died and the smoky man saw into the future! Yeah!

Then there was this weird guy named Severus Snape, but we called him Sev for short. He skipped rope with us on Thursdays.

All of a sudden, there was a crush of people coming in. I tried to remember all of their names, but this is all I can name off the top of my head: Smokey, Johnny, Weepy, Engel, Tucker, Louie, Melvin, Neal, Pancho, Mitch, Ned, Shucky, Jack, David, Ed, Lou, Doc, Eugene, Eddie, Franck, Mozart, Harrison, Stubbs, Clifford, Jerry, Richard, Murray, Akbar, Frik, Huy, Mad Hatter, Lionel, Rodney, Ooblar, George, Lars, Uncle Jack, Sebastian, Henry, Jack Fro...st, Thimbletack, Woodsman, Cat in the Hat, and Leonard. Oh yeah, and Billy-Bob-Jo, the maid. I asked them what they wanted, and they said all they need is love! All they need is love! All they need is love, love, love is all they need!

After they all left with their love firmly grasped in their right fist, a sweet little girl who introduced herself as "Hahagiaisagrano" read me a poem she had written all by herself, the darling! It went something like this:

Jiminy Glick,  
You are the wind to my cheek,  
You are the ring to my phone,  
You are the happy to my happiness,  
You are the sound to my music,  
You are the brain to my head.  
I love you. I always will.

She said that a friend of hers, Racal, had tragically lost her composition in a robbery. Alas. At least Hahagiaisagrano kept hers safely locked in a cabin!

I suppose it must be time for tea, because old DickDick (that's my nickname for Dixie) is hollering at me from the crapper pot. Tit-tit, and good night, my fellow fellows.


End file.
